


32 Windsor Gardens

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [120]
Category: Paddington Bear - Michael Bond, Primeval
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: There are some days on which even the anomalies aren’t the strangest things that the team encounters.





	32 Windsor Gardens

Ryan finished his mug of tea and then sprawled out on one of the sofas in the rec room to catch up on the night’s sleep he’d lost chasing something large and hairy that he couldn’t pronounce around the gardens of a stately home.

The team had arrived back in the early hours to find Lester still waiting for them, having taken the opportunity to catch up on his paperwork. There were times when Ryan thought the man worked even more ridiculous hours than the rest of them put together.

Much to Lester’s amazement, they hadn’t broken anything nor had Cutter caused another diplomatic incident. In fact, their irascible academic had even bonded with the nice old buffer who owned the place over a shared love of Talisker and a mutual dislike of Glenfiddich. All greenhouses, orangeries and rose gardens had been left in one piece and they had been invited back for tea and cakes whenever they were in the area. Lester had stared very suspiciously at all of them, clearly waiting for the sting in the tail, while Ryan had delivered his report,

When it hadn’t come, they’d been congratulated on a job well done. Especially when it turned out that the owner was one of the Queen’s many cousins, probably several times removed, whatever the hell that meant. Ryan presumed that Lester had decided against telling Cutter that any earlier, because it might have tempted fate.

As Ryan was on shift again in the afternoon, he’d just bunked down in the ARC for what was left of the night and was now intending to follow Lester’s example and make a start on his own backlog of crap. But first, a nap seemed like a very attractive idea…

*****

The ADD alarm blared through the ARC, shattering the peace, bringing Ryan bolt upright in less than a second. With a muttered curse, he swung his legs off the sofa and made his way down to the operations room.

“Where now?” he demanded, arriving only a few seconds ahead of Cutter and Stephen.

“Just zooming in,” Connor said, his fingers dancing a nimble jig over the keyboard in front on him. The display on one of the bank of screens changed to show a map of south-east England. The flag on the map looked like it was in a London suburb, but the display was homing in so quickly that it was hard to follow.

“32 Windsor Gardens!” Connor announced excitedly. “It’s in a built-up area… Just changing to street view now…”

The screen swapped to a view of a tree-lined suburban street in an obviously up-market area. The cars parked on the rood were expensive, and everything had a well-cared for look. Connor brought up the map view again on one of the other screens and quickly zoomed in.

“Looks like it’s in one of the rear gardens,” Abby said, joining the crowd around the ADD.

“And it looks pretty well-enclosed,” Connor said approvingly. He turned to one of the technicians. “Ranjit, see if you can get a handle on who owns no 32 and get them on the phone. Tell them to stay inside. We should be there in about 45 minutes…”

In under five minutes, the team was driving out of the ARC on their way to Windsor Gardens.

Ryan was glad he hadn’t bothered to go home.

*****

“Are they expecting us?” Connor asked, talking to Ranjit on the radio as they piled out of the Hiluxes.

“Couldn’t raise anyone at number 32,” Ranjit said apologetically. “It’s owned by a man called Brown. But I managed to get hold of a guy next door, Mr Curry. According to him, there’s a bear in the garden.”

“If anyone starts singing teddy bears picnic, I won’t be answerable for my actions,” Ryan muttered, staring at Lyle.

The lieutenant gave him a wholly guileless look.

The only good thing was that Lyle wasn’t scratching his thumbs, so they might be lucky and find the bear had already decided to go home.

“How big?” Ryan demanded.

“The bloke wasn’t too clear, to be honest,” Ranjit said. “I think I got him out of bed. He said something like, ‘It’s always that bear’s fault’ and slammed the phone down on me.”

“There’s a side gate,” Abby pointed out.

Stephen slung his tranquilliser rife over his shoulder and nodded to Ryan to indicate he was ready.

“Lyle, you and Blade cover the gate. Don’t come in until I tell you,” Ryan ordered. “I want to make sure it doesn’t make a break for it that way.”

“We need a drone, then I could do a fly-over and get some pictures of what’s going on,” Connor said wistfully.

“Leave my hairdryer alone,” Abby told him.

“Kermit, see if you can get the front door open,” Ryan ordered.

“The easy way or the hard way, boss?”

“The quiet way. And preferably the quick way.”

Kermit grinned and jogged up to the door. It looked like the owners weren’t terribly security-conscious as the lock looked nothing more souped-up than a Yale. Kermit had it open in 30 seconds, shooting Ryan a thumbs-up.

Ryan nodded. “Stephen, you’re with me, Ditz, cover our arses. We go in through the house so we can see what we’re dealing with before getting too close.”

Number 32 Windsor Gardens was as neat inside as it was outside. A long hall led to a kitchen at the rear which overlooked the garden. As soon as he looked out of the window, Ryan could see the anomaly down at the far end, nestled amongst a line of flowering shrubs and overhung by a couple of small trees. He couldn’t see any sign of a bear, but there were quite a few hiding places so they certainly couldn’t assume it had found its way peacefully back to its own time. In Ryan’s experience, anomaly shouts were rarely resolved that easily.

The main thing in their favour, though, was that the garden really was as well-enclosed as it had looked on the map, so at least they weren’t going to have to chase a bear half way around suburbia. Cradling his rifle in his arms, Ryan went through the open door into the garden, looking around cautiously.

“I’ll take it from here,” Stephen said quietly. “Let me check for tracks.”

As Stephen made his way onto the lawn, Ryan kept a weather eye out for any signs of movement in the undergrowth. When nothing was immediately obvious, he told Ditzy to let the others in through the side gate and left Kermit to make sure nothing got past them into the house. Luckily for them, the area didn’t seem big on neighbourhood watch stuff, and so far, it looked like they’d managed to do some breaking and entering without attracting any undue attention. Connor was monitoring the police radio for the area, and so far nothing had been called in.

Just as Ryan was beginning to think it might be their lucky day, there was a rustle in the bushes and a small brown shape stepped out onto the lawn, walking upright on its hind legs…

…and politely raised a rather battered hat.

“Hello. Are you from the Council?” the bear asked. “You got here very quickly.”

Ryan stared down at the creature. There were times when dinosaurs were very definitely not the weirdest part of his job.

“Fuck me, it’s a talking bear!” Kermit said with a grin on his face like a kid who’d just leaned that the Tooth Fairy really did exist and that, with inflation, sixpence was now worth a tenner.

“Connor, check out the strength of the anomaly,” Ryan ordered, as Connor came into the garden via the side gate, with Cutter close on his heels. “We need to get this back where it came from.”

The bear looked up at him quizzically. “You’re not from the Council, are you?”

Abby promptly interposed herself between Ryan and the bear. “Don’t frighten him, Ryan.” She went down on one knee and said, “My name’s Abby Maitland. Did you come through the light?”

The bear extended a sticky-looking paw. “Paddington Brown. Pleased to meet you. No, I came on a boat.”

Abby looked as confused as Ryan felt.

A sudden yell from Connor drew everyone’s attention. The anomaly flared into life, expanding brightly before spitting out an indignant raptor. The creature ruffled its feathers and let out a constipated squawk. Even though it was only about half a metre high, Ryan had learned the hard way to be very wary of the nasty little buggers.

“There’s a byelaw against keeping chickens,” the bear called Paddington remarked. “I hope it’s not intending to stay.”

The raptor launched itself across the garden.

The bear jumped sideways.

The shot from Stephen’s tranquilliser rifle went wide.

Kermit rugby-tackled the raptor to the ground, managing to get one hand around its legs and the other around its scrawny neck at the same time. He rolled on his back, holding the raptor up like cricket ball; a cricket ball with a sharp beak and a predilection for trying to disembowel people.

“Well caught!” the bear exclaimed.

Ryan exchanged a puzzled glance with Cutter. Ranjit had mentioned that the house was owed by someone called Brown. But he had no idea how the hell a talking bear knew that, or why it had the same surname. Or even why it had a name at all.

“Get that fucking thing back through the anomaly,” he told Kermit.

“What’s an anomolomolon?” the bear asked.

“Anomaly,” Cutter corrected, automatically.

“I do beg your pardon,” the bear said, looking suitably contrite. “What’s an anomaly?”

“It’s a sort of rip in time,” Cutter said, unable to stop himself explaining, even if the subject of his explanation was a small brown bear clutching a battered hat in one paw and what looked like a rather squashed sandwich in the other.

The bear seemed interested, which was a sufficiently unusual occurrence to make Cutter look like he was just about to launch into a classroom lecture.

“The lecture’ll wait, Professor,” Ryan said. “I’m sure Paddington is only being polite.”

“Are rips in time dangerous? Is that why you’re all carrying guns? Mr Brown doesn’t approve of guns.”

“Mr Brown sounds a very sensible person,” Cutter said.

“He is,” Paddington said. “Would you like a marmalade sandwich?” He held out the unappetizing item clutched in his paw.

Cutter looked dubious but accepted it anyway.

Kermit looked disappointed.

Paddington, establishing himself in Ryan’s opinion as a rather perceptive talking bear, promptly took another sandwich from inside his hat and handed it to Kermit.

In the interests of interspecies relations, Cutter took a small bite out of the sandwich. Kermit took a larger one out of his, then ate the rest at speed, without offering to share.

“We need to send you home, Paddington,” Cutter said, in the voice he reserved for talking to small children, speaking unnaturally slowly and clearly.

“I am home,” Paddington said, enunciating each word equally slowly and clearly.

Cutter tried a different tack. “But where did you come from?”

Paddington’s eyes narrowed, and Cutter took a step backwards, a flush rising up his cheeks. “Are you one of those people who think immigrants should go home?” the bear demanded, his eyes flint hard and his whiskers twitching.

“No one here thinks that, I promise you,” Abby intervened hurriedly. “You said you came here on a boat, Paddington. Where was that from?”

“From Darkest Peru.” There was an unmistakeable note of pride in the bear’s voice.

Stephen sat down on the grass next to Paddington. “I’ve been to Darkest Peru. I met a bear there called Pastuzo. Do you know him?”

“Uncle Pastuzo? My Uncle Pastuzo?”

“He did have a hat very like yours,” Stephen said. “And he lived with a very lovely lady called Lucy.”

“Aunt Lucy! You know Aunt Lucy!”

“We only met briefly, but I liked her very much.”

“She’s living in the Home for Retired Bears in Lima now.”

“You never told me you met talking bears in Peru!” Cutter said staring at Stephen with a mixture of amazement and irritation.

Stephen looked up and grinned. “I don’t tell you everything, Cutter. So, now we’ve established that Paddington really is home… And that he didn’t come through the anomolomolon…”

“Try saying that fast after a few beers,” Kermit said, and licked the marmalade off his fingers. “Nice sandwich, Paddington. If you’re not going to finish yours, Prof…?”

“Incoming!” Ditzy called.

Ryan spun around at the warning, just in time to see three much larger raptors come pelting out of the anomaly, feathers fluffed out in an angry haze of red and blue. Stephen, still sitting on the grass next to Paddington, got a shot off from his tranquilliser rifle with more success this time, and the dart buried itself in one raptor’s flank. A shot from Finn’s EMP dropped a second to the ground, its legs twitching from the muscular spasms. The third ran straight towards Cutter.

Paddington promptly whipped off his battered hat and withdrew yet another marmalade sandwich, before sending it skidding down to the short, well-manicured grass, directly in the path of the enraged creature. One hairless, splay-toed foot planted itself firmly onto the sandwich. That foot promptly shot backwards, flipping the sandwich up into the air in a curving arc over the raptor’s head.

The raptor nose-dived forwards to land face-down at Cutter’s feet. The sandwich came apart in the air, one thick sticky slice landing flat on the top of Cutter’s head, the other flopping down onto the raptor’s head, just as a second shot from Finn’s EMP preventing the creature from scrabbling to its feet. On the other side of the garden, the third raptor staggered drunkenly as the shot of tranquiller started to make itself felt. It turned a baleful but deeply dozy glare on them, and then dropped like a feathered cannonball into the middle of a large patch of gaudy dahlias.

Paddington clapped his hairy paws together in glee, and jumped up and down in excitement, his old hat slipping down over his eyes.

Cutter reached up and patted the bread on top of his head, a puzzled expression on his face.

Everyone in the anomaly response team fought valiantly against the desire to laugh.

Abby took pity on him and reached up, plucking the sandwich off, leaving his hair standing up in sticky, slightly lumpy orange spikes. She picked the other half off the raptor, its plumage ending up in a similar state of disarray.

“Send ‘em back, miss?” Finn asked, eyeing the newly-reconstructed marmalade sandwich with a hopeful expression.

“Get them to the edge of the anomaly and when they show signs of waking up, send them through. In the meantime, get a net around it, in case anything else comes through.”

“On it!” Finn said cheerfully.

Paddington watched with interest as the soldiers went to work.

A head popped up over the top of the fence to the neighbouring property. “Are you taking that bear away?” he asked, a hopeful look on his sharp-nosed face.

“Good afternoon, Mr Curry,” Paddington said politely. “One of my new friends knows Uncle Pastuzo and Aunt Lucy.”

Mr Curry looked like a particularly bad-tempered wasp had just bitten him on the arse. “Neighbourhood’s gone to the dogs since that bear arrived.”

“Paddington’s a bear with very fine manners,” Cutter said indignantly, resting his hand on Paddington’s hat.

“Here, have a marmalade sandwich,” Abby said, holding out the one in her hand, ignoring the blond hairs sticking out of one side.

Mt Curry let out a strangled harrumph and ducked down out of sight.

“Shame to let it go to waste.” Finn plucked the sandwich out of her hand, pulled out the stray hairs and devoured it with evident relish, ignoring Abby’s pained look.

“There’s plenty more!” Paddington announced. “I do hope you’ll all stay to tea!”

“Splendid idea,” said Cutter.

Ryan caught the long-suffering look on Stephen’s face and grinned. Parting an evolutionary zoologist from a talking bear wasn’t going to be easy, which was fortunate, as Ryan quite fancied one of Paddington’s marmalade sandwiches.


End file.
